And the woman who had prepared it was standing six feet away in my own kitchen, smiling, asking if I had slept.

The notary stamp.

It was already there.

Already stamped, signed, and dated — and the date on it was a full week before Lawrence’s funeral.

Chapter 18 — The Date on the Stamp

I kept my eyes steady on the page and let the meaning of that date settle into me.

A week before Lawrence’s funeral.

During that week I had not left my husband’s side for a single hour.